


Secrets Spilled on the Ballroom Floor

by Kafoomph



Series: Victoriana AU [1]
Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Adultery, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Gen, Victorian Aslyum, mention of infanticide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-26
Updated: 2015-03-26
Packaged: 2018-03-19 16:05:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3615984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kafoomph/pseuds/Kafoomph
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>William Strife showed up in the busy streets of London with nothing but an accent and some very sharp business skills. He is a man with a past that he doesn't want to talk about. It's a shame that everybody else could think of nothing better to talk of.</p>
<p>The determined Alexander Parvis made it his duty to find out just why Strife left America, and ended up befriending him in the process.</p>
<p>Now the past has come looking for Strife, and all will be revealed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Secrets Spilled on the Ballroom Floor

Parvis knew that he should at least be feeling somewhat offended by the disruption to his ball, but in reality he found it quite impossible to even pretend to be even slightly ruffled. The three strange men that had gatecrashed his open invitation party had no idea that the host barely followed propriety as it was, and chose to ignore everyone else in the ballroom anyway. Instead they headed directly for the man he was currently trying to weasel information out of, a one Mr. William Strife.

The acquaintance of only a few months had thrown Misters Strife and Parvis into company surprisingly often for the lackadaisical son of an Earl and a man in trade, but Parvis found that he quite enjoyed the connection. Despite Strife being in trade, he was deemed worthy of acknowledgement by many in the upper echelon of the Ton because firstly, he was very successful in his business elevating him above the poorer men stuck in the quagmire of trade and secondly, he was a mystery. He literally rolled into the Ton one day, bought a warehouse with what was rumoured to be the last of his wealth and started trading the very next day. Within a month he'd made back his investment and, if rumour was to be believed, tripled it.  
His accent clearly marked him as foreign, an American, but no one could ever wheedle out of him exactly where in the States he had came from, or why he had left the so-called 'Land of Opportunity' behind. It had peaked the interest of many but only Alexander Parvis had the determination and blind drive to constantly annoy Mr. Strife in the hopes that he would reveal his mysterious past.  
Months of badgering, bartering and some morally questionable snooping were about to be made redundant in a way Alexander Parvis could never have imagined.

Strife had finally caught sight of the trio heading in his direction and for a brief moment Parvis wondered if he would bolt, he certainly looked ready to. But it was with a small, almost sad looking, glance in the direction of his host, that William Strife straighten himself up to his full six foot two and faced the three men head on. Just before the three reached their destination Strife turned his attention to Parvis and spoke quietly but fiercely.  
"I apologise, Parvis, if my actions tonight reflect badly on yourself. Despite your", he paused here, his voice taking on a wearied tone, "eccentricities, you've been a good friend to me."  
It was the most verbose Alexander had heard the other man be.

Any response that could have been made- appropriate or otherwise- was lost to the acknowledgement of the arrival of the strangers to their small tête-à-tête. The three men glanced with curiosity at their host before the man whom was clearly in charge of the intruding group stepped forward. Strife indicated to the gentlemen, readying an introduction.  
"Parvis, may I introduce a Mr. David Fayram, Mr. Steven Goates and Mr. Keith Steinbeck. Gentlemen, this is our host, Mr Alexander Parvis."  
The leading gentleman, a Mr. Fayram, smiled at Parvis with a hint of reparation in his manner. "I wish to offer my apologies for coming in unannounced. It is a pleasure to meet you, however I have business with Mr.Strife." Parvis nodded, making no move to leave whilst taking note of a new Amercian accent and watching in fascination as the man promptly turned his attention to Strife and pushed on regardless of whether or not he was there.  
"Mr. Strife, you're a very hard man to track down.", he said with good humour, Parvis idly wondered how the two knew each other. Certainly, Mr. Fayram's civility in greeting was at odds with the stiff manner in which Mr. Strife received the three gents.  
"I would disagree.", Strife quipped back in utter deadpan, "After all you did find me."  
The sudden and loud laugh that erupted from Mr. Fayram, drew the attention of the majority of the room and startled those standing around him. Strife stiffened under the sudden scrutiny and Parvis noticed that the larger of Mr. Fayram's associates moved to subtly block any exit Strife might take.

Fayram seemed to realise that he'd brought unwanted attention upon the small party and tried to cover it up by telling a long winded joke so that any eavesdroppers would get bored and move on. When eventually Parvis was the only person left taking a marked interest in the conversation Mr. Fayram suggested that Strife and himself find somewhere more private to talk.  
"No.", was the immediate response.  
"Mr. Strife please be reasonable. It would be unfortunate if we were to cause a scene."  
"I said no. You're not taking me back there." There was a pleading tone to his voice, a very apparent vulnerability that was completely out with the character William Strife had portrayed since arriving in England.  
"William..."  
"Don't.” Strife's response had been quick and Parvis watched as Strife tightened his grip on the cup in his hands, turning his knuckles white. “You have no idea what it's like in there. To be locked up with deviants and the disturbed and expected to jump when you're told to. To hear their screams in the middle of the night and wonder if they're really there or if you're just going mad yourself. I won't go back there. I had done nothing to deserve that hell."  
"Your wife and her family disagrees.", Mr. Fayram argued mildly, keeping a calm tone while maintaining a commanding quality to it.  
"Ha! Like I care what they think.", Strife bitterly muttered. "Under what grounds did they have me committed again? Did you ever know Mr. Fayram?"  
The man looked mildly abashed as he admitted, "I do not know the exact particulars, but-"  
"I was poor.", Strife cut in. "Too poor for her tastes at least."  
Parvis nearly dropped his wine. The idea of William Strife, one of the most successful traders in the Ton being poor was unimaginable. Yet the knowledge that he had been incarcerated in an asylum didn't add up either. He knew his friend was mentally sound.

Strife began to ramble. "My only crime was that I found it difficult to provide for her every whim. New dresses every season, laces and ribbons, jewels that were visibly expensive regardless of how they suited her. She wanted a wealth that I didn't have. Then, when our fields lost half it's yield of corn she snapped. I wanted the money to go towards feeding the children, she wanted a new pair of slippers.", he spat.  
Mr Fayram looked appalled. "She put herself before feeding her own children?"  
Strife nodded, his composure wavering under what he had to say next. "She claimed that I should put her before the children as she was my wife and they were not my children."  
"She was an adulterer? And that was how you found out?"  
"I knew before then."  
"How?"  
A flash of pain shot across the trader's face and lingered in his eyes. With some difficultly he managed to speak. "Her stillborn child was born perfectly healthy. I caught her, drowning it in the bath."  
"But, why? What would possess a mother to do that to her child?"  
"The child was quite clearly not mine. Visibly so." At the enquiring looks of the rest of the group Strife elaborated. "The child was Negro."  
There was a pause in the conversation as Strife readied himself to say his next piece and as the others tried to sort through the information they'd just been given.  
"I never forgave her for what she did to that child. I started to hide money, spoiling the other children to make up for the contempt she showed them and for the child she forced me to bury.  
When she found out she went violent. She beat the eldest and blamed me when she dragged the boy to the authorities.  
I went along with it willingly, as it seemed like it would be an escape from her, though I did fear for the children I left behind. To hear my sister took them in was the greatest relief.  
But that place!", he spluttered, as if trying to contain a scream or a yell by choking on it.  
"I swear, if you are not mad going in you will be once you spend a night there. Hell, I bet you, Mr Fayram, you who gets to leave at the end of the day. I bet even you feel better for being away from that pit of insanity."  
By this point Strife was unaware or had stopped caring about just how clearly his voice had risen in volume and carried across the ballroom. He was unaware of the mixture of looks he was receiving from the crowd. His attention finally returned from it's detached journey through remembrance and his gaze rested on Mr Fayram who faced him down with an obligated determination.  
Conceding nothing, Mr Fayram spoke with a steely resolve. "Mr Strife, you need to return with us."  
"Under what grounds?", Strife challenged.  
"You were booked into a hospital for the criminally insane, we need to evaluate your mental health.", Fayram argued.  
"My only moment of insanity was taking that witch as my wife!"  
Fayram continued determinedly, "There is also the matter of the thousand dollars you stole from the hospital."

At this little revelation, Strife had the decency to look scolded. "Ah, yes. I had intended to pay that back. However, once I reached England I realised that I could not without potentially giving myself away. I know she checks your offices to make edits to my file. She has no respect for locked doors unless she is the one behind them." Strife let out a frustrated sigh and look a long draught from his cup. "I suppose she knows I am missing? Possibly even that you are looking for me in England?"  
"I cannot say on her account.", Mr Fayram responded. "It was your sister that raised the alarm. She had requested me to look for you, off the books, as it were."  
Strife grinned at that. "My wife who visited me fortnightly didn't even notice I was missing? Ha! That is something. And what was your excuse Fayram?" he deflected.  
"I took some leave to look after my own wife. You can imagine my surprise when I found your sister waiting for me in my office with a beggar that the aides were claiming was her brother."  
"Ah yes! Su will have had the baby by now. All healthy?"  
Fayram smiled like any proud father would. "Yes, thank you. Our little girl is doing very well. And I do realise you're trying to distract me Mr. Strife."  
“It isn't working?”, Strife quipped, gaining a small smile from his opponent.  
“I'm afraid it's not.”, was the rebuttal, spoken with the good humour of a man who was really beginning to hate his job.  
"Well what would you suggest Mr. Fayram? I refuse to return with you and I will put up a fight if you try to force me.", Strife stated plainly, expecting that to be the end of it.  
"Well, that still leaves me with some options. I could inform the local police and have them forcibly remove you. I could chance dragging you back from England on my own. I could inform your wife that you are now living in England and, at least, seemingly wealthy..."  
"Oh god, anything but that.", Strife managed to whisper.  
"I will not let it.", Parvis cut in, reminding the gentlemen he was still present.  
"Nor I!", a cheeky Scottish accent cut up from the equally eccentric Liam Mackay, whom no one had noticed listening in. His current company, the Swedish writer Joakim Hellstrand and his current muse, the Russian beauty Miss Proasheck, nodded in assent as well. Behind them Col. Brindley and Lady Rutherford indicated that they would offer protection too, and was quickly joined by Misters Lane, Sykes, Lovasz, Turpin, and Jones. Murmurs of support started to hum throughout the room.

"Or...", Mr Fayram interjected, his sense of theatre combined with the knowledge that it might be more trouble than it was worth to be at odds with so many people, in a strange country nonetheless, led up perfectly to his big reveal. "We can say we tracked your voyage to England but you perished during travel. If you agree to return the money that you stole from the hospital, including compensation for our journey over here, of course."  
Strife regarded the other man coolly before breaking into a large grin. "Of course. And my wife will never know?"  
Mr Fayram shrugged. "If she didn't notice the switch in the two months she visited you I doubt she'll notice any time soon. And if she asks we can tell her that you died months ago and she's been visiting the man that was placed in your room."  
"That poor man, having to put up with my wife.", he grinned.  
"Indeed.", Mr Fayram conceded. "There is the matter of your sister..."  
"Ah. Yes. I do not know of a way to reveal to her my situation without my wife's family getting involved."  
"I have a suggestion.", Mr Goates spoke up, surprising Parvis as he had completely forgotten the tall man's presence. "If we have evidence that your wife was an adulterer, she would be put on trial. Your sister has custody of her bastard children still, they could testify to her neglect."  
"How would be accuse her of adultery though? There is no solid proof- she saw to that herself.", Strife stated, sounding panicked.  
"The child she killed, the one she said was stillborn, would be proof enough if the body could be found." He paused, considering something. "Also, she may be with child again."  
"Really?", Mr Fayram sounded shocked but he seemed to be the only one. Mr Goates just nodded.  
"Do you know how far along she would be?", Strife asked out of curiosity.  
"About six weeks according to the midwife I was speaking to. That would have been the day we left.", Mr Goates stated. “She may already be starting to show.”  
"And I had already left the country by then.", Strife said with a smile on his face. "Ship records would show that."  
A wide smile spread across the face of William Strife as he considered a life free from the worry that his wife would find him and make his life a living hell again. His gaze held so much emotion as he glanced at each one of the men and women that supported him, finally resting on Fayram again as he murmured, "I could be free."

Despite not wanting to ruin the mood, Mr Fayram had considered something that he felt needed addressed. "You do realise your wife would be hanged?"  
"I do.", Strife replied, his voice steady.  
"And you are accepting of that?"  
Strife sighed, wondering just how to word his response. "She showed little regard for the well being of others, and in doing so destroyed any regard I had for her. I am not saying I rejoice in what will happen, but it does not sadden me. She took a life, Mr Fayram, the life of a child. I cannot forgive that. I just need to live with my feelings on the matter."  
"Would you be returning to America?", Fayram asked off handedly, grasping on to a change of subject. Strife, however, faltered in his response. Returning to his home had never been a option to consider while his wife was still alive.  
"I do not know.", he replied honestly, nervously playing with the ring on his index finger in lieu of anything else to do.  
"You would be welcome to come back I'm sure.", Mr Fayram stated softly, trying to ease any discomfort he may have caused.  
"Equally, you're just as welcome to stay.", Parvis cut in, suddenly afraid he'd lose his friend to the Americas. Strife smiled at the two men.  
"I think I'll wait until the trial and it's resulting decision before I think on it. In the meantime, gentlemen, this is a party and I believe there is an extra case of Mr. Whitten's latest brew that is just asking to be drunk.", Strife deflected with a wicked grin and an imperceptible nod at Mr. Mackay whom nodded back before sending a signal to the waiting staff in the room. With practised efficiency that was a surprise to the host, the staff had refilled the cups in the room with new refreshments and the band had broken into a lively jig, calling the couples in the room to flock to the floor and dance.

For the rest of the night wine, whisky and gin flowed free as the whole of the Ton celebrated the freedom of William Strife.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed.  
> Apologies if the summary made it out to be something other than it was.  
> Any and all feedback/comments welcome.


End file.
